


Ni haat’mitir gar morut’yc, jii.

by what_am_i_even_doing_tho



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, inspired by Narcos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_am_i_even_doing_tho/pseuds/what_am_i_even_doing_tho
Summary: Captured while on a job, Corin must wait for Din to save him. Corin’s condition when Din arrives, however, is worse than either of them could have ever imagined.(Please read the tags!)
Relationships: Baby Yoda & Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret) & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Ni haat’mitir gar morut’yc, jii.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a scene from Narcos. The moment I saw that scene from Season 1, Episode 2 where Javi saves Helena, I just knew that I had to rewrite it as Din and Corin. It was requested that I add some comfort at the end, and so I delivered. Translations are in the end notes.
> 
> I have an idea for what chapter 2 will be, but I have not yet begun writing it, nor will I be doing so for a little while. I’m in the middle of writing the biggest fic I have ever written (as of now, the word count for both parts combined is just over 12k, and I’m not even done yet), and that is definitely my priority. Hopefully, that’ll be posted in the relatively near future, and once it is, I’ll start working on chapter 2.
> 
> Please heed the warnings in the tags. If this is triggering for you, don’t read it.
> 
> (P.S. if you want to cause yourself even more pain, listen to Time of Dying by Three Days Grace and Dark on Me by Starset while reading this)

This wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. This was not how things were supposed to go. The plan was simply for Corin to go in, gather some intel, and get out. Din was vehemently against the idea from the beginning, but there was no other option. The contact would’ve recognized Din and put the whole job in jeopardy, and they needed those credits. So, despite Din’s worried protests, Corin had gone in alone.

It started out okay; the contact seemed willing enough to talk. It was almost laughably easy to get information out of him. That should’ve been when Corin realized that things were not as they seemed. He should’ve noticed then that something was wrong and gotten out before it was too late. But he didn’t notice.

The contact knew. He knew why Corin was there, and he was prepared. With a push of a button, the room flooded with mercenaries, the very same mercenaries Corin was trying to find. Though, it looks like they found him instead. Corin fought them off with every ounce of his strength, but there were just too many. Before he knew it, he was on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back. They tied a blindfold around his eyes and dragged him away.

``````````````````````````````````````

Everything hurt. Everything hurt so kriffing much. He just wanted it to stop. Unfortunately, there was no end in sight to the agony. It was ever-present, unending, all consuming. His very existence was defined by the pain he felt, and he was helpless to do anything against it. He just had to wait until Din found him. Please, Maker, let Din find him.

Corin wasn’t expecting this to be how the mercenaries dealt with him. He thought they would tie him to a chair and torture him, not take turns having their way with him. This was undeniably so much worse. How many times had they gone now? He had lost count. It was all just blending into one hazy blur of endless suffering.

He really didn’t know how much longer he could take this. This was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Luckily, it seemed like he wouldn’t have to for much longer. A man who Corin could only assume was the boss had just walked in and yelled at the mercenaries to stop goofing off.

“We need information from him! You need to stop wasting time and get to it.”

“But, sir,” One man spoke up timidly. “He hasn’t cracked yet, and we’ve been at this for a while now.”

The boss glanced over at Corin, who was currently curled up in the corner of the room furthest from the group, arms wrapped around his legs and shaking fiercely. When he noticed the boss looking at him, he flinched and dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Well…” The boss started. “If he hasn’t talked after what you laser-brains have done to him, I doubt he will. Besides, we should get moving. We’ll just kill him.”

There was a murmur of agreement, and Corin thanked good luck. Finally, the pain would end. He wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. He silently apologized to Din and the child; he would’ve liked to see his riduur and son one last time. It seemed bad luck wasn’t quite finished with him yet, however.

“Wait!” Another mercenary called. “Wait, let me have one more go before you off him. He’s a real catch, that one.”

No.

The boss sighed, “Alright, but make it quick.”

Stars, please no. 

The mercenary approached, hands already working on his belt. He made eye contact with Corin and grinned with such malicious glee that Corin felt his worn body shudder.

Please, just let it end already.

~~

Din was furious. Corin had never returned to the Razor Crest, so after tucking the kid away in his room and ensuring that he would stay put, he took it upon himself to go to where his riduur was supposed to meet the contact. He felt bad, hearing the whines of protest coming from the ad’ika, but it was too dangerous. Upon arriving, he saw signs of a major struggle, and he just knew that Corin had been taken. He felt a rush of pride at how many men Corin had taken out on his own, but still he knew that his cyar’ika had been overpowered.

He felt a wave of unbridled panic rush through him at the thought. Corin was gone. Din should’ve been here. He should’ve come with his riduur instead of sending him out all alone. If Din had just been here, this wouldn’t have happened. Who cares that it would’ve ruined the job? They could always find another one, but he would never be able to find another Corin, no matter how long he searched.

So yes, Din was furious. But he was also terrified.

He tore through the town looking everywhere for Corin, asking everyone who would give him the time of day if they had seen anything. After an hour of searching and following fruitless leads, Din had finally pieced together enough information to figure out where Corin was being held. Now, as he looked at the building in question, he felt his anger increase tenfold.

Din blasted the door down, not caring if it alerted the ge’hutuun’e to his presence. Let them come. He would show them just how merciless he could be. As expected, blaster shots rained down upon him, and he dodged with the grace of his many years as a warrior, all while returning fire with scary precision. The poor bastards didn’t even stand a chance.

Within moments, Din was racing up the stairs. He normally would not have been so loud, so hurried, but all he could think about was that he needed to find Corin. He had to get his cyare out of there. He absolutely refused to entertain the idea that his rescue may have been too little, too late. It would break him, and right now he just needed to focus.

The commotion he caused downstairs drew a few mercenaries out of a room, and he shot them without hesitation. Din could hear loud laughter and jeering coming from within and got a sick feeling in his gut that told him he had found Corin. With all the deadly skill his people were known for, he burst into the room and shot every last one of those scum. He caught movement in the corner and raised his blaster to fire.

Din couldn’t help the broken sound that escaped his lips when he saw who it was. Corin. His mesh’la kar’ta. 

His blaster clattered to the floor, and he ripped his cape off aggressively. With slow and cautious steps, Din approached the naked, bloody body of the man he loved with all his heart. Corin didn’t seem to notice his presence; he just stared off into the distance with glazed eyes and a blank look. Din felt his heart crumble.

As gently as he could, Din wrapped the makeshift blanket around his trembling cyare. Hoarsely, he whispered, “I’m going to get you out of here, okay? I promise.” He leaned in for a soft kov’nyn. When Corin gave no sign that he had heard, Din let out a shuddering breath and carefully lifted Corin into his arms.

``````````````````````````````````````

The child squealed with delight when Din strode up the ramp, but instantly his ears drooped when he saw the state Corin was in.

“How’d you get out, you little womp rat?” Din asked, struggling to keep his voice light.

Din carried Corin over to the wall and set him down, wincing when the movement jostled the wounded man. Corin gasped, and his eyes darted around frantically. With feeble limbs he flailed, trying to push Din away. He was muttering under his breath, saying, “Please, no. Just kill me already. Please, no more.”

His eyes watered at the words, and Din realized that Corin thought he was another mercenary trying to hurt him. The child tottered closer, concerned coos leaving his mouth, and Din hurriedly scooped him up. Even as weak as he was right now, Corin could still hurt the kid if the ad’ika got too close. Din knew with certainty that Corin would never forgive himself if that happened.

With rushed steps, Din carried the child back to his room, trying to ignore both the heart-breaking cries of protest coming from him and the terrified ramblings of his riduur. When he placed the child down, he immediately got up and tried to get back to Corin.

“No, ad’ika. I need you to stay here. Gedet’ye.” The child looked up at him with sad eyes, then waddled further into his room and sat down. Din breathed a thank you before shutting the door. Din turned around to face Corin with a sigh. What was he supposed to do? Corin still wasn’t aware of his surroundings, still didn’t realize that Din meant no harm. How was he supposed to calm him down?

An idea floated into his head, and he ripped the helmet off, putting it down on a nearby crate. The breastplate came next, and soon all of his armor and weapons were in a neat pile, and he was left in just his shirt and pants. He crouched down to make himself seem less threatening and took small, slow steps towards his cyar’ika. He started to speak in Mando’a, making an effort to keep his voice calm and level.

“Bic cuyi jat, Corin, bic cuyi jat. Shi ni. Din, gar riduur. K’uur, ner kar’ta, gar morut’yc. Ni haat’mitir gar morut’yc, jii.”

He continued to speak soft reassurances and inched forward. With every word, Corin seemed to relax ever so slightly. By the time Din was kneeling next to him the flailing had stopped, and Corin was blinking at him with clear eyes. Din heaved a sigh of relief, only for a sob to wrench its way out of his kar’ta’s mouth.

Corin flung himself forward, and Din caught him in a gentle embrace. He could feel tears begin to soak his shirt, and his heart clenched. He ran his fingers through Corin’s hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. By the Maker, Corin didn’t deserve this. Heart heavy and eyes wet, he continued to whisper his love and comfort, unconsciously slipping between Basic and Mando’a.

After long enough that Din’s body was screaming in protest from the position, Corin’s breathing finally slowed down and the tears stopped. Din pulled away just enough to get a look at his cyar’ika and felt another pang of sadness jolt through him. He pressed a chaste kiss to Corin’s lips before resting his forehead against his. Corin leaned into the contact, and Din felt the tension ease its way out of his body slowly.

Both men held that position for a moment longer before Din decided that he should really clean Corin up and get him into some clothes. When he stood up, however, Corin’s hand shot out to grab his pants, and he looked up fearfully. 

“Don’t leave,” He whispered, voice rough.

“Shhh, Corin. Bic cuyi jat. I’m just getting the medkit. I’ll be right back, ner cyare” Din reassured as his hand brushed through Corin’s hair once again. Corin nodded shakily and let go. Din hurried over to the closet, snatched the medkit, and returned to his kar’ta’s side.

Corin was silent as Din patched him up, only wincing occasionally. Din worked slowly, carefully, intent on causing as little pain as possible. He whispered praise the whole time, desperate to keep Corin in the moment. Once finished, he picked Corin up again and carried him over to the cot. He decided to dress Corin in some of Din’s own clothing, remembering how Corin had once told him that it made him feel safer.

Once Corin was dressed and laying down, Din went over to the child’s room and opened the door. The sleepy baby’s ears perked up, and he reached his little arms out. Din dutifully picked his son up and made his way back to the cot.

He set the kid down on the bed, who then buried his face into Corin’s shirt, warbling softly. Corin raised a slightly trembling hand to rub the ad’ika’s back as Din carefully settled in next to them. Mindful of Corin’s injuries, Din wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Corin attached himself to Din’s side in an instant, placing the child between them.

Din, noticing that his cyar’ika was still shaking, began to press soft kisses all over Corin’s face. He tangled the fingers of one hand into his hair, while the other rubbed soothing circles into his side. Slowly, the tremors ceased altogether, and Corin fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Din tightened his grip and prayed that no nightmares would plague either of them tonight. He released a final shaky breath, and sleep took him as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Riduur- spouse, husband  
> Ad’ika- little one  
> Cyar’ika- darling, sweetheart  
> Ge’hutuun’e- bandits, villains, petty thieves (can also mean serious criminals you have no respect for - abusive)  
> Cyare- beloved  
> Mesh’la kar’ta- beautiful heart  
> Kov’nyn- keldabe kiss  
> Gedet’ye- please  
> Bic cuyi jat, Corin, bic cuyi jat. Shi ni. Din, gar riduur. K’uur, ner kar’ta, gar morut’yc. Ni haat’mitir gar morut’yc, jii.- It’s okay, Corin, it’s okay. It’s just me. Din, your husband. Hush, my heart, you’re safe. I promise you’re safe, now.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
